Superday was the end to a pretty super week

Promoting the brand at Cheyenne's Superday.

When asked to describe Cheyenne's Superday, I sometimes say, "It's like Denver Capitol Hill People's Fair -- without all the hippies."

I get puzzled looks from those who've never attended the People's Fair. That's OK. The People's Fair was -- and still is I guess -- a sprawling street fair started by the counterculture types at Capitol Hill United Neighborhoods (CHUN). This may be hard to believe, but 45 years ago, Capitol Hill was largely unexplored territory, populated by winos, ethnic minorities, longhairs in crash pads, culties, and Greatest Generationites who never got the memo to escape to the burbs.

Adventurous long-haired entrepreneurs bought old houses, staking out a claim in the territory. Enough of them arrived to form a united front, which turned out to be CHUN. That, of course, led to a People's Fair and, much later, legalized marijuana, coffee shops on every corner and craft breweries on every other corner. Hipsters, too. Who needs to read long boring histories about the Front Range when you can come here and get an encapsulated version?

Superday is Middle America's street fair. It was political parties and candidates, during even years anyway.   Non-profits of all kinds have booths. Alzheimer's Association, NARAL, Latina Conference for Youth, Head Start. YMCA. There's a big car show and lots of play areas for the kiddos. Military recruiters are on hand, as are a host of evangelical orgs. Many of the flyers I carried home from Superday featured offers to save my soul and that of America, which seemed to be in particular peril this week after some historic SCOTUS rulings. Save your soul -- all hell is breaking loose. And don't forget to make a generous donation!

I worked the booth for the Laramie County Democrats and its fund-raising arm, the Grassroots Coalition. We were sited adjacent to Head Start and an empty spot that was the site of an unspecified org which chose to take their cause elsewhere when they saw the neighborhood. They were OK with the U.S. Army booth next door. But Democrats? No way. They didn't even stick around to see our nifty "Love is Love" rainbow T-shirts and the life-sized cardboard cut-out of President Barack Obama, who had a pretty good week.

Democrats are woefully outnumbered in Wyoming and Laramie County. But we tend to show up at things like Superday. Republicans don't have to show up as FOX News does the work for them. We get plenty of dirty looks. And more than one person said they didn't want to have their photo taken with the Prez. They were polite about it. Wyomingites are polite, except when you turn them loose on online forums. That's when they vent their spleens, anonymously, of course. There are some pretty ugly spleens out there.

One middle-aged woman made a beeline to our booth and announced that she was an ex-lesbian. That was fine with us. We supposed that being an ex-lesbian was just as good as being an ex-husband or an ex-NFL linebacker or an ex-Republican. Unfortunately, she didn't let it go at that. She contended that homosexuality was a choice. And now we were all going to have to recognize gay marriage and that it was the Democrats' fault. I had seen this person at Tea Party rallies. She crowded our booth and asked each of us, in turn, if we were homosexual. At that moment, none of us were, so that's how we answered. She responded that we could all change that status and become a protected class, thanks to the Democrats and now, the U.S. Supreme Court and its judicial tyranny.

This went on for some time. We tried to reason with the poor woman but to no avail. She eventually moved on, leaving us a bit flustered. Instead of arguing with her, maybe we should have called out the gendarmes? But she probably would have screamed about "government overreach." We could have calmed her with soothing music or therapy-speak which, to Democrats, is almost like a second language. But we all got into the spirit of the debate/shouting match. When you're a liberal living in Wyoming, you tire of these shouting matches. No attempt at logic tends to reach the blunt skulls. Liberals, for our part, tend to be condescending, which doesn't help. Eventually you have to throw up your hands and walk away, heading to the nearest bar.

"Out West in the Rockies" lands at UW

At my day job, scores of press releases arrive daily. Occasionally, I read one and say "Wow!" It happened in March when I saw that artist Ai Weiwei's monumental sculptures were leaving China for display at the National Museum of Wildlife Art in Jackson. In Laramie, Dancers of the Joffrey Ballet will be the artists in residence in July at the Snowy Range Summer Dance Festival. Wow! Short story master Tobias Wolff will be the featured presenter at the Jackson Hole Writers Conference later this month. Wow!

But I was doubly impressed last week when I saw the following news release from Rick Ewig, associate director of the American Heritage Center at the University of Wyoming. This highlights a good year for equality in Wyoming. The LGBT community is finding its footing in The Equality State. Or rather the state is taking a turn for the better. Witness the big turnout last weekend at Cheyenne's "Pride in the Park." So many attended that the police arrived to tell us to move our cars as they were blocking traffic. We complied, of course, believing in blocking traffic only when absolutely necessary to get a point across.

But I digress.

Here's the news:

The American Heritage Center (AHC) at the University of Wyoming (UW) in Laramie, which houses several significant collections related to slain UW student Matthew Shepard, is currently developing “Out West in the Rockies,” a first-of-its kind regional lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) history and culture archive of the American West.

The scope of of this collecting area welcomes collections from eight Rocky Mountain states: Wyoming, Montana, Colorado, New Mexico, Idaho, Utah, Nevada, and Arizona. Retiring AHC Director Mark Greene helped inaugurate and Associate Director Rick Ewig will oversee this effort.  

Gregory Hinton, creator of Out West, an acclaimed national LGBT western museum program series, introduced the concept to the AHC and serves as project consultant.  Hinton announced Out West in the Rockies at the recent LGBQT Alliance luncheon of the 2015 American Alliance of Museums Annual meeting and Museum Expo in Atlanta. 

Growing interest in the rural LGBT experience underscores the need for a visible, dedicated, centrally located LGBT Western American archive. 

"The LBGT communities are under-documented in many established national archives and historical repositories, but particularly in collections dedicated to the history and culture of the American West,” says Greene, who is a Distinguished Fellow of the Society of American Archivists.  “An archive of this kind is long past due.  The AHC is proud to be committed to this effort.” 

The AHC ranks among the largest and busiest non-governmental repositories in the United States.  In 2010, the AHC was recognized as one of the nation’s premier archives when it received the Society of American Archivists’ Distinguished Service Award.  The AHC currently houses 75,000 cubic feet of materials, with 15,000 cubic feet remaining to welcome new collections.  Thus, with ample storage space, an experience, dedicated, and nationally recognized staff stands ready to accommodate substantial LGBT holdings. 

Rural Montana-born Gregory Hinton recently drove from Los Angeles through the Rockies in blizzard conditions to hand deliver his personal and professional papers to the AHC.  

"Too many LGBT men and women evacuate our rural western backgrounds seeking community, companionship, and safety in the bit city,” Hinton says.  “Happily, not everybody leaves.  And more and more of us return.  Thanks to the AHC, our stories are welcome in Wyoming.” 

A distinguished advisory board of respected western scholars, artists, and activists is being assembled, including W. James Burn, director, University of Arizona Museum of Art; Wyoming State Representative and UW faculty member Cathy Connolly; Rebecca Scofield, Ph.D. candidate, American Studies, Harvard University; and civil rights attorney Roberta Zenker, author of TransMontana. 

"Out West dispels the myth that LGBT history (and communities) are bi-coastal,” says Burns, recent chair of the LGBTQ Alliance of the American Alliance of Museums.  “Rural western LGBT populations are thriving and make significant contributions to the communities in which they live.” 

A call will soon be put out for significant regional collections of organizational records and personal papers consisting of a wide variety of materials, from emails and correspondence to speeches and manuscripts. 

“Everything from scrapbooks and photo albums to press clippings and marketing/promotional material; from digital and analog photos to diaries and blog entries; from professional contracts and grants to minutes and annual reports,” says Rick Ewig, also recent president of the Wyoming State Historical Society and editor of Annals of Wyoming. 

Seeking to immerse themselves in the vast landscape of the rural American West, scholars and historians from all over the world visit the AHC every year.  The AHC is UW’s repository of manuscript collections, rare books, and university archives.

Update on Laramie County Democrats' Flag Day fund-raiser

Here's an update on tomorrow's Flag Day fund-raiser in Cheyenne. I have it on good authority that Uncle Sam (or someone who looks a lot like him) will be there:

The Laramie County Democratic Grassroots Coalition is hosting a Flag Day Garden Party on Sunday, June 14 at 3626 Dover Road, Cheyenne, 2-5 p.m. 

Tim Fields from Project Healing Waters Fly Fishing will make a presentation about this worthwhile program that assists our local veterans. 

Aimee Van Cleave, Executive Director of the State Democratic Party, will update us on Dem happenings around the state. 

There will be desserts, beverages, and musical entertainment  provided by Terry and Theresa Barbre who will play the bagpipes and drums. 

And maybe even Uncle Sam. 

The cost is $15; $5 will go to Healing Waters and $10 to the Laramie County Democratic Party. The Dems will pay the entry fee for up to 10 Vets who are not members of the LCDGC.

We're asking the Grassroots Members to bring a dessert which has the colors red, white and/or blue. No cream pies or anything that needs refrigeration unless you want to bring a cooler too. We are going to cut some of the desserts to serve that day, plus we will set aside some of them to be auctioned off as a fund-raiser for The Laramie County Democrats. We will also have the cards to play 50/50.

If you choose, wear the colors red/white and or blue. We want to take this day to honor the flag and to honor our vets.

Let's have a great turn out for this special event! Bring a friend(s).

If you have questions, contact Kathleen 421-4496 or Ken 433-4394.

Democrats' Flag Day fundraiser features Project Healing Waters presentation

I'm on a committee with the Laramie County Democrats Grassroots Organization that stages fund-raisers for for Dem candidates, mainly local and legislative. The committee raised $10,000-plus in 2014. In the political world, that seems like a drop in the bucket. The Koch Brothers, before they finish their morning coffee, donate $10 million to Repubs. But those thousands in local funding paid for yard signs and flyers and even paid advertising, all things crucial to name recognition, especially for newbies.

It appears that another election is on the horizon. How does this happen? A dozen or so Republicans have already announced for president in 2016. Hilary Clinton and Bernie Sanders have announced on the Democrats' side. Locally, Lee Filer has announced a return bout with fundie Repub Harlan Edmonds. Filer held the seat for two years. Did a great job. Ran again in 2014. Dems stayed home and Repubs voted in Edmonds. You have to get out a vote, people! GOTV efforts will be crucial in 2016.

The LCDGC is staging a fund-raiser this Sunday. You are welcome to attend If you're a Dem who has publicly declared your allegiances, You are welcome if you're a lapsed Dem. You are welcome if you're a closeted Dem, uncertain about making your feelings known in a sea of conservatives. Veterans are doubly welcomed, as it's Flag Day and we're a friendly bunch. 

On Sunday, June 14, Flag Day, the Laramie County Democratic Grassroots Coalition is sponsoring a fundraising event at 3626 Dover Road, 2-5 p.m. Tim Fields from Project Healing Waters Fly Fishing will make a presentation about this wonderful program that assists our local veterans. There will be desserts, beverages, musical entertainment and maybe even "Uncle Sam". The cost is $15; $5 will go to Healing Waters and $10 to the Laramie County Democratic Party. The Party will pay the entry fee for up to 10 veterans who are not members of the LCDGC.

We're asking the Grassroots Members to bring a dessert which has the colors red, white and/or blue. No cream pies or anything that needs refrigeration unless you want to bring a cooler too. We are going to cut some of the desserts to serve that day, plus we will set aside some of them to be auctioned off as a fund raiser for the Party. We will also have the cards to play 50/50. If you choose, wear the colors red/white and or blue. We want to take this day to honor the flag and to honor our veterans

See you there for another fun FUNdraiser!

If you have questions, contact Kathleen 421-4496 or Ken 433-4394.

For more information on Healing Waters, go to http://www.projecthealingwaters.org/. PHWFF is sponsoring its third annual fly-tying competition. According to its web site, the contest is "open to individuals who meet the definition of a PHWFF participant."

For those locals curious about the art of fly-tying, visit the Art of the Hunt exhibit showing now at the Wyoming State Museum.

Wave good-bye as the Boomer train leaves the station

We staged a farewell lunch for a work colleague today. She's moving on to greener pastures, and by that I mean another job. That's what young people do, move on. It's the circle of life.

Ten of us dined at the Albany which, as you locals know, is right across the street from the UP train station, now known as the Cheyenne Historic Depot. Twentieth-century passengers used to eat at the Albany before their trains departed for Chicago and San Francisco. There also was a Burlington Northern Depot, which has been torn down.

I rode trains as a kid growing up in the fifties. By the time I was in my teens, I had switched to air travel, as did most Americans. At 16, I was driving a car and have been ever since. Train travel was passe. Slow and annoying. Kind of like us Baby Boomers, now reaching retirement in alarming numbers.

I thought about this at lunch. Half of us were new employees from several different departments. They all had moved on from other jobs, as young people do. I was the oldest one at the long table. We conversed, had fun, teased the departing one. As the only one with a camera, I shot photos. Not to say nobody else could take pictures. I probably was the only one there lacking a smartphone equipped with the usual snazzy camera. I have a dumb phone. "They won't trust me with a smartphone," I sometimes joke. My colleagues have heard it more than once.

Pretty soon, I will head out the door of my workplace for the last time. Retired at 65, wondering where all the time went. I'll walk on down to the Historic Depot and climb aboard the train that takes Boomers to wherever we go when we retire.

All aboard!

New Flash Fiction Review: "Welcome to Zan Xlemente, Zalifornia"

New Flash Fiction Review published one of my pieces April 27 in its "New Work" section online. It's a fairly new online mag with a wonderful group of editors: San Francisco's Meg Pokrass, the excellent Boston short story writer Pam Painter, Texas short-short fiction writer Tiff Holland, and advisory editor and anthologist James Thomas. I read on the W.W. Norton web site that James and his colleagues Robert Shepard coined the term "flash fiction." I met Meg Pokrass through Facebook. She's one of the few writers daring enough to feature new work on FB and ask for feedback. She talked about this experience, and read some of her work, on a snowy mid-September day at the 2014 Equality State Book Festival in Casper.

I consider myself a writer of short stories that aren't that short. Stories in my first published book are of traditional length and follow a structure similar to those penned by writers I've studied, everyone from Hemingway to Tobias Wolff.

But over the past 20 years, I've published three short pieces, including the one below. I had a 1,000-word piece in the Norton anthology, In Short: Brief Creative Nonfiction. I published a short-short called "Flying Nurse" in High Plains Register a few years ago. I've been writing short blog pieces here for ten years. In my youth, as editor and columnist for a Denver arts and entertainment weekly, I wrote columns that were 750-1,000 words. Most of my magazine and newspaper pieces have been fairly short, although I've also written some long-form mag pieces. Humor and satire, which I purport to write on these pages, is better short. It's challenging to write short. And fun. Which is why I'm going to stop right here, referring you to my latest flash fiction:    

WELCOME TO ZAN XLEMENTE, ZALIFORNIA 

My daughter M went to a nuthouse in San Clemente and all I got was this lousy metal keychain with CALIFORNIA writ large the blue of the sea under a gold-and-orange/red sun.

Read the rest at New Flash Fiction Review.

May showers bring August tomatoes -- we hope

During my recovery from April's knee replacement surgery, my friend Liz brought me a Roma tomato seedling. I placed the sprout in my kitchen's south-facing window. If I lived in a more temperate climate, I would have marched the plant outside and put it into the ground. But I live in Wyoming, where April is still winter. Many of us have turned to the use of high tunnels or cold frames or other sheltering devices to ensure an adequate harvest. But not me. I continue to wait for those frost-free days of late May. Very late May, or even early June.

Two weeks ago, on a rare sunny day, I bought some flowers. I sat out on the porch, repotted them and set them out to enjoy the sun. While I was at it, I repotted the Roma and two cherry tomato plants brought over by my neighbor.  The dirt had a calming effect on my throbbing left knee. The sun, a welcome visitor. Still, I knew I was tempting fate to ignore the first commandment of High Desert gardeners: "No outdoor planting until Memorial Day."

True to form, rain and snow and frost arrived in southeast Wyoming this week. I could have hauled the potted plants inside, as I'd already done once. Instead, I pulled out my trusty tarp and covered them. It traps heat and moisture, and keeps snow and frost from the leaves. It's a big tarp -- I can cover the entire garden plot adjacent to my back porch. There was no need as I had kept to the letter of the law and not planted anything in the ground. I did cover the strawberries, But there's really no need, as my strawberries are hardy varieties cultivated at the Ag Dept.'s old High Plains Research Station. These babies can take the snow and ice and, to prove it, keep coming back year after year.

The tarp covered the plants four days and four nights, through a light snow and two overnight frosts and days of rain. I uncovered them Thursday evening after work, the moment I glimpsed the first ray of sun. The weathercasters assure me that the frosts are over, with low temps going down to 40 degrees but no colder. Soon, the usual warm, low-humidity days of summer will take over and I can put away the tarp.

This morning, the sun is out. Soon, so shall I be.

"The harder they come, the harder they fall" -- the novel

"Violence is as American as cherry pie."

Black Panther and SNCC activist H. Rap Brown said this is a 1960s speech in Maryland. His life, unfortunately, became a testament to those words.

I was thinking of that quote as I read "The Harder They Come," the terrific new novel by T.C. Boyle. It's about the American way of violence. But it's also a family story, a heartbreaker for those of us who have raised challenging children. Boyle is a master stylist, a writer equally adept with the novel and the short story. He's best known for his dark humor and satire. We get that in this novel. But also a big helping of tragedy.

For his epigraph, Boyle reaches further back than the 1960s for a quote from D.H. Lawrence: "The essential American soul is hard, isolate, stoic, and a killer. It has never yet melted."

If needed, you can immerse yourself in another dose of violence by watching the 1972 Jamaican crime film "The Harder They Come" and its Jimmy Cliff song of the same name. Despite reggae's "peace-and-love" rep, most of us boomers first encountered the music via a high body count.

I'm two-thirds of the way through Boyle's novel. So good and so horrifying, it's kept me up at night. It may do the same for you.

U/D 5/21/15: Finished the book. Glad I kept with it.

This shouting and cane shaking is thirsty business

Great to see that Amy Surdam has been named the new executive director of the Cheyenne Downtown Development Authority/Main Street. The organization has been looking for a new director since the departure of Christie DePoorter last year.

Surdam was one of the founders of the Children's Museum of Cheyenne, which will be built sometime soon in "The Hole" downtown. That organization came up with a plan to fill "The Hole," something that the city has been working on for a decade. She and her colleagues get kudos for action in the face of widespread inaction.

Surdam is a nurse practitioner who managed the CRMC Urgent Care Center when it opened near downtown in 2012. She also is a major in the Wyoming Army National Guard. Married to a CRMC ER doctor, she was quoted in this morning's Wyoming Tribune-Eagle as someone who "loves our downtown" and wants to "create a place where my own children will want to return to live and work."

That's the crux of the matter, isn't it? Where will our kids want to live when they're in their 20s and 30s? Good jobs are one thing. Quality of life is another. While young people may find work in Cheyenne, they often choose to live south of the border in Wellington, Fort Collins or Greeley, Colorado. Many would rather live in the college town of Laramie and face the treacherous daily winter commute over the pass than live in Cheyenne. This week, the Laramie City Council passed a measure that would prohibit discrimination based on sexual orientation. This is the first municipality in the state to pass such a measure, an effort that's regularly defeated by the Know Nothings in the State Legislature. Laramie, off course, was the site of Matthew Shepard's murder in 1998.

Laramie's downtown is a happening place. I say this as a 64-year-old soon-to-be-retiree. Let's go over to Laramie, ma, and get one of those Geritol-laced lattes at Coal Creek Coffee, sit outside on the patio and watch the trains rumble by. I'd rather be perusing the shelves at Night Heron Books or lunching at Sweet Melissa's. But you get the idea. Downtown Laramie is full of life while Cheyenne is still working on it. Lots of credit goes to Trey Sherwood, director of the Laramie DDA/Main Street org.

I think Cheyenne may have found a similar dynamo in Ms. Surdam.

The City of Cheyenne received some good news this week. The feds have pledged $3 million to the city's West Edge Project. The city now has $15 million to get that project going. It will transform the west end of downtown into a network of parks, business and living spaces. You can find out more about it here. One of the more intriguing ideas in this effort is an idea to take renovated historic railroad cars, park them on spurs and turn them into bistros and shops. The city is working on this with the High Plains Railroad Preservation Association. This is a terrific way to celebrate Cheyenne's heritage, a city founded in 1867 as a "Hell on Wheels" railroad camp.

The Cheyenne DDA/Main Street has some funding challenges, as we've been reading about lately. Local naysayers don't see the value of a vibrant downtown development organization. They often get the most ink and air time because they're the loudest and crankiest. You kids get out of my downtown! This gray-headed, cane-wielding (knee replacement surgery) old guy could be one of the cranky ones. But if you see me down at the Depot Plaza shaking my cane at a group of young people, I'll probably be saying something like: Welcome to our downtown, kids. Spend your time and money down here, and don't forget to volunteer for some of DDA/Main Street's fine projects. And while you're at it, fetch me an IPA from Freedom's Edge or the Cheyenne Brewing Company. This shouting and cane-shaking is thirsty business.

Mark Twain really liked Anne of "Anne of Green Gables" -- and so did I

Most people consider "Anne of Green Gables" a children's book, specifically, a book for girls.

As a child, I didn't read it. I read a lot. Sci-fi classic. Classics for boys, such as "Treasure Island" and "The Three Musketeers." The Hardy Boys mysteries. Tom Swift adventures.

But "Anne of Green Gables" or "Little Women" or "Little House on the Prairie?"

Not this cowboy.

My loss, as it turns out. Artificial barriers delineating what you should or shouldn't read does nobody any good.

I was charmed by the staged reading of "Anne of Green Gables" put on by the Next Step Performance Company this weekend at the LCCC Playhouse in Cheyenne. Small theatre, big cast. Next Step puts on productions that raises money for scholarships for students majoring the fine arts. Cast and crew are all volunteers, which allows ticket sales and auction proceeds to go to scholarships.

"Anne of Green Gables" by Lucy Maud Montgomery is a serious story. An aging duo, brother and sister Marilla and Matthew Cuthbert, are getting too old to do all of the chores required by Prince Edward Island farmers in 1908. Matthew is in his 60s and Marilla in her 50s. Had automation come to the farm in 1908? Matthew has heart problems. His solution for cardiac arrhythmia is to get back to work. Marilla does all of the cooking and cleaning. Darns socks. Makes clothes. Bakes pies. On PEI, you have to make hay while the sun shines, which is does about the same length of time as it does in rural Wyoming.

They decide to adopt a 13-year-old male orphan to help out around the place. Orphans must have been a dime a dozen in 1908. Unfortunately, Matthew arrives in his buckboard at the Avonlea train station to find a scrawny 11-year-old girl waiting for him. The taciturn Matthew is kind of taken with the talkative Anne "Anne with an E" Shirley. The practical Marilla, not so much. "What good is a girl on a farm?" she asks. Anne must go. A neighbor says she will take Annie. The neighbor it bitchy Mrs.Blewitt, who has a zillion little kids and goes through hired help like there's no tomorrow. Marilla knows that Mrs. Blewitt probably will work Anne to death, which wouldn't have been much of a crime in an era of widespread child labor. She lets the lively Anne stay at Green Gables. Matthew is pleased. Anne gets into some minor-league scrapes. She stands up for herself with the town gossip, Rachel Lynde (played with aplomb by my one-time arts colleague, Rita Basom). Matthew spoils her with little gifts. Marilla gets on her case but you can see her attitude softening as time goes on.

Women readers know this story. I don't. No less a literary personage than Mark Twain thought that Anne was "the dearest and most moving and delightful child since the immortal Alice." The book has sold 50 million copies in 20 languages during the past 107 years. That's 500,000 copies annually, give or take. The author's home and the green gables farmhouse on PEI is a literary tourist stop, visited by scores of loyal readers from all over the globe. The town of Cavendish, the model for Avonlea, plays up its legacy. Nearby is a national park dedicated to Montgomery's works.

I didn't know any of this until I saw the staged reading and conducted a Google investigation of "Anne of Green Gables." Amazing story, really. We writers secretly yearn for our legacy to outlive us. I don't have much of a legacy. I visit those old homesteads and birthplaces of those who do. The best example I can think of is Nebraska's Willa Cather and her town of Red Cloud. The entire town is dedicated to Cather and her books and stories.A wonderful places to spend a warm spring day.

Living writers are learning how to enhance their local brand. Buffalo's Longmire Days celebrates the mystery novels and the TV series spawned by Craig Johnson's fiction. Carbon County celebrates  the fictional creations of native son C.J. Box. This is a trend that will only get bigger as the "local" craze grows. If you're a locavore, you should be devouring the creations of local writers, artists and performers.

Capital Chorale adds a dash of humorous seasonings to a rainy Cheyenne night

By now, decades into the electronics revolution, you would think that everyone would be safely at home on a rainy Friday night playing e-games or watching a super-hero flick on their mega-widescreen TV.

That's not the case. The more electronic options available, the greater the need to get out among our fellow humans. Yes, we are an untidy and argumentative bunch. We do like to get together to enjoy the arts.

Friday night featured a variety of offerings in Cheyenne. Chris and I attended the Cheyenne Capital Chorale "Tasteful Tapestries" concert. The Cheyenne Little Theatre offered "9 to 5 -- the musical" and the LCCC Theatre featured "Anne of Green Gables." Bands performed at local bars. The Suite Bistro held its usual karaoke night, which could be considered an art form depending on who's on stage at the time. If it's me, forget it.

My daughter Annie, however, has a great voice and was performing with the Capital Chorale last night. "Tasteful Tapestries" was all about food, as am I, so it was a natural choice to attend. Because I've been homebound for a month due to knee replacement, I've had an opportunity to hear Annie rehearse her solo and the other songs on the CCC repertoire. Unlike her violin practice in the fourth grade, which set neighborhood dogs howling, Annie's singing is a joy to hear. Her solo was the classic tune from "The Sound of Music," "My Favorite Things." A tuneful little ditty that I've heard hundreds of times during screenings if Chris's favorite film. The song has plentiful references to Austrian foodstuffs -- schnitzel with noodles and strudel -- so it fit easily into the evening's program. Janet Anderson performed "The Big Rock Candy Mountain," a song by Harry McClintock about the musings of a Depression-era hobo made famous in "O Brother, Where Art Thou." The Cheyenne Capital Quartet (plus one) tackled the classic "Snap, Crackle, Pop" advertising jingle, which brought back memories of endless bowls of Rice Krispies. The trio of Paula Egan-Wright, Sarah Scott and LuWana DePorter celebrated caffeinated beverages with the "Java Jive."

After breaks to bid on silent auction items and to buy yummy pastries (pecan pie!), the chorale launched into "The Seasonings" by P.D.Q. Bach, the pen name for musician and humorist Schickele. It's been decades since I've heard P.D.Q. Bach (1807-1742) performed. I forgot how clever and irreverent he can be. Songs included "Tarragon of Virtue is Full," "Bide Thy Thyme" and "To Curry Favor, Favor Curry." The pianist was accompanied by bicycle horns, triangles and some mysterious homemade instruments. The cast expanded to include a pair of cheerleaders, a chef, football players, and soothsayers.

A whopping good time was had by all. And money was raised for the 2015-2016 season.

And to think that all of this entertainment was brought to us by volunteers, our family members, friends and neighbors who are in it for the love of music.

Summer arts events flourish in Wyoming communities

Looking for something to do this summer?

You don't have to look very far.

The Wyoming Arts Council and the Wyoming Humanities Council have teamed up to chronicle "125 Days of Arts and Humanities." Why 125? Because this summer marks the 125th anniversary celebration of Wyoming statehood. The official big day is July 10. On that day, the Wyoming Territorial Prison State Historic Site holds a Statehood Celebration Day. That same weekend, you  can view Chinese artist/activist Ai Weiwei's sculptures in Jackson or groove to sounds of Marty Stuart and His Superlatives at the Big Horn Mountain Festival in Buffalo or ogle the art at Jackson Hole's art fair or talk mountains at the international climbers' festival in Lander or travel to the powwow in Ethete. Everyone should attend at least one powwow, Interesting and instructional, especially for us white folks who think we have all of the answers.

And that's just one WYO weekend.

On any weekend, you are almost certain to find a beerfest. A beer festival addresses the basic necessities of a summer weekend: craft beer, BBQ and music. Craft beer continues to make waves in WYO. We have some award-winners at Melvin Brewing/Thai Me Up in Jackson and Alpine. Snake River Brewery in Jackson has been brewing up Pako's IPA and a whole host of specialty brews for decades. They were among the first in the region to can their output. A new brewpub, Cheyenne Brewing Company, opens in early June in Cheyenne. You can get a more comprehensive list of craft brewers in Wyoming at

The Wyoming Brewers Festival is set for Cheyenne June 19-20. One of the interesting things about this festival is that its proceeds go toward rehabbing our city's historic train depot. The brewfesr culminates with a Saturday night concert by the Taylor Scott Band. Scott grew up in Cheyenne. There was a time when you could see the teen-age Scott and his band perform for free downtown. He's gone on to bigger and better things, his voice and musical skills honed from constant touring with his new band. Don't miss it.

Some final words. I've been working in the arts in Wyoming for 24 years. I continue to be amazed by the scope and variety of summer events. Many of the festivals on the list have arisen in the past 10 years. This is especially true of the brewfests, most of which feature music and some have art exhibits. Local food is a major element. At the Wyoming Arts Council, we joke about the fact that our small staff couldn't possibly attend all of the summer arts offerings. We could try, but who would be left to shuffle the state paperwork? But all of you can get out and support these events. That's what keeps these events going -- the sweat equity of local organizers. And your attendance.  

In "Interstellar," the future is as corny as Kansas in August

Imagine that humankind gives up its dreams of space travel to farm corn in Kansas full-time.

That’s the kind of boring future imagined by Christopher Nolan in the film “Interstellar.”

Humans no longer shoot for the stars. An unnamed blight is killing all the crops except corn – and even its days are numbered. Dust Bowl-style storms blot out the sun and everything (laptops included) is coated with a fine layer of dust. Unemployed astronaut Cooper (Matthew McConaughey) farms corn with his two kids, an irascible father and a fleet of robotic combines. His daughter gets into trouble at school when she writes a paper contending that the U.S. did land on the moon as “corrected” textbooks proclaim that we invented our space triumphs to bankrupt the Russkis. The new reality is not to “look to the skies” but look down at the dirt as humans try to save a planet that’s beyond saving.

A fascinating conceit for a movie. We make fun of conspiracy nuts who contend that the moon landings were invented on a Hollywood soundstage. In Nolan’s universe, scientists are the kooks. Waste money on rocket ships when the earth is dying? No sirree bob -- not with my tax money.

NASA’s scientists have been driven underground. They are busily at work launching space probes to find other habitable planets to screw up. They recruit Cooper to join other astronauts to explore those likely places to resettle the populace. As we know from the Kepler telescope observations, earth-like planets exist but they are 100-plus light years away. The solution: fire a rocket through a wormhole that has mysteriously appeared near Saturn. “They” put it there, whoever “they” are (their identity is revealed by film's end).

Will the scientists find a new home for earthlings? That’s the question that involves the viewer for most of the movie. Great special effects, as befitting the CGI era (no streams of flashing lights as in “2001”). The robots are cooler than HAL, equipped with wit and sarcasm. The main robot threatens to shoot one of the crew through the airlock as happened in the pivotal scene in “2001.”

Woven through all this are complicated human relationships. In the end, that’s what motivates humans – their relationships with others of their kind. Cooper would not leave his beloved family behind, especially his daughter Murph, unless he could save them by jaunting off into space. Turns out that Cooper’s colleague in space, Dr. Amelia Brand (Anne Hathaway), has a love interest who was on an earlier space probe. It is love that motivates humans. As the Beatles sang, “love is all you need.” Not bad when you can wrap up a sci-fi epic with a sixties melody.

What else is there? What makes us distinctive among known life forms? Any big-brained chimp can plant corn or build a space ship. But it takes love for a wife or daughter or father to motivate us to reach for the stars. Humans are a mess, for the most part. But we are always offered a path to redemption that is as mysterious and complicated as the physics of a wormhole.

Love is all you need…

For Baby Boomers, the arguments go on forever

Big news from the Brookings Institution: Baby Boomers are in each other’s faces – again. According to a Brookings report:

“The primary political output of the divided boomers has been frustrating gridlock and historically low evaluations of congressional performance.”

As an early cohort Boomer (born 1950), I’ve been engaging in political arguments since my high school days. I grew up Catholic, attended Catholic school and went to mass regularly with my large family – I’m the oldest of nine children. For most of my childhood and teenhood, arguments with my parents revolved around curfews and whether rock was devil music (Parents: Hell Yes; Mike: Hell No.)  Vietnam wasn’t a hot topic – not yet, anyway. Civil rights, drugs, abortion, and all of the rest.

My first two years if college was one long political argument. I was a ROTC guy, but didn’t want to be. But I also didn’t want to go to Vietnam. I solved this by smoking pot, skipping classes and engaging in dorm-room political arguments that raged into early mornings, punctuated with long sessions of devil music. 

Over the decades, family gatherings have been filled with toasts to our continued good health and raging political arguments that may last an entire Thanksgiving weekend.  Most of my friends are boomers. Many are liberals, even here in Wyoming, but others are not. I no Longer have lunch with some conservative friends because it leads to indigestion on all of our parts.

These arguments will rage until we can rage no more. They can be traced back to the divisions caused by the Vietnam War. You might say: “That was a long time ago, guys – can’t you get over it?”

In a word, no. The divisions are deep and will only be solved by cohort replacement – death of all of the Boomers.

Go back to spring of 1970. On April 30 of that year, Pres. Nixon announced that U.S. troops would be sent into Cambodia. We had been told that Vietnam was winding down and now here was news that is was winding up instead. That led to protests in college campuses across the U.S. The most radical one was held at Kent State University in Kent, Ohio, a place I had never heard of until then. On May 2, KSU students burst down the ROTC building. That was a bit off a shock to us ROTC guys at University of South Carolina. We spent quite a bit of time there. Attended naval science classes there during the week. Played basketball in its gym at night and on weekends. We assembled there in uniform weekly for our drills. Following Martin Luther King’s assassination in 1968, demonstrators had trashed our ROTC building. There were no real signs of the damage when I arrived in September 1969.

Ghosts remain.

We make enormous decisions when we’re young. We hope to receive guidance from our elders. We don’t always get it, or the right kind. So we end up making decisions on our own that come back to haunt us later. Then, at 64, we have to forgive our younger selves for our ignorance and our passion. I can remember how lonely and afraid I was at 19. It’s as if it happened yesterday. I was supposed to be a man but I was just a little boy.

I was sensitive and gifted with a great memory. That helped me lead a life of empathy. It also contributed to my passion as a writer. I could have turned out otherwise. Nixon parlayed a natural distrust of pointy-headed intellectuals and anti-American college brats into an election strategy. At a NYC demonstration after Kent State, hard hats rallied for Nixon. Most of these blue collar guys were Democrats then. By the next election (1972), Vietnam and student protestors and civil rights had turned them all into resentful Republicans. Many of their sons and daughters continued this policy of resentment. Some of them remained liberals and activists who continued to march for peace and justice. After the Vietnam War and civil rights struggles came the women’s movement and LGBT rights. The anti-nuke movement and swarms of environmentalists. All of these people looking for special treatment! Reagan and his policies arose from that resentment. That, eventually, gave rise to the Tea Party, that privileged group of Boomers who are wildly indignant about nearly everything.

But for me and my fellow liberals, there were more struggles ahead, more wars to protest, more inequalities to be addressed.

So Baby Boomers continue to argue. Not sure how our descendants will see us. Hippies. The Me Generation. Warmongers. Peaceniks. The generation who brought us the Millennials with all of their faults (everybody gets a trophy!). The generation that despoiled the planet with their excesses and stood by and did nothing.

Argumentative? You bet. And don’t expect the conflict to cease as long as we have breath enough to hurl an invective.

Another frustrating go-around with the mental health care system

Dear Mental Health Care System:

We turned over our daughter to you last September. Actually, we didn't turn her over to you -- she attempted suicide and called 9-1-1 for the umnpteenth time. Once that happens too often, the system steps in and says hey maybe we should see what's wrong with this person. M spent the required six-to-eight hours in the ER before being checked into the Behavioral Health Services, dressed in size XXXL blue scrubs and assigned a room with someone who screams all night. Over the weeks, she was put on hold and had to go through a series of court hearings which we had little or nothing to do with since she is 21 and an adult. We could visit for an hour each evening. She wasn't happy but as the time marched on, through the first snow on to Columbus Day and into Halloween, we awaited word from the professionals about the mental state of our daughter and her future prospects. The State Hospital was talked about as a destination. M said she attended groups during the day and received some one-on-one counseling, but we detected no change in her behavior and outlook. The cast of characters changed on the ward. M remained. The mysterious docs put her on some heavy-duty drugs that seemed to offer some stability. Was she feeling better about herself? Did she still have thoughts of self-harm? What about her underlying psychological disturbances? Were we going to find her dead at home some day? That was one thing about BHS -- the staff kept M safe. They were and are, for the most part, caring individuals. Case managers would pull us aside and say, "She doesn't belong in here. She's a talented kid. Talkative, Funny. She doesn't walk the hall like a zombie as happens with many of the patients." She did have a zombie phase early on, when she received too much Seraquel or Latuda or Lamictal or Trazadone or Cymbalta or good ol' reliable Prozac, my drug of choice. It is tempting, I know, to dose the patients and hope they go to sleep for 20 hours instead of banging their heads against the wall while they recite "Howl" in its entirety. Some of the patients here are right off the streets or out of jail or graduates of the juvenile justice system But others? During visiting time, I see people I know. A state legislator. Local business people. A couple of wayward Democrats. They are visiting other patients, engaging them in conversations, laughing it up. At times, I've visited friends at BHS. They are no crazier than I am, than M is. I look them in the eyes and they look in my eyes and we all know what's going on. "I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked...." We know that this is just a holding pen for those with mental health challenges. It is not a treatment center. The order is to stabilize the patient and get him or her off to the State Hospital, a halfway house, a homeless shelter, or home, which has its own hazards. I use "treatment center" loosely as there doesn't seem to be such a place, at least in Wyoming.

More after I catch my breath....

Meanwhile, in Liverpool, my grandfather awaits the Lusitania

In "Dead Wake," Erik Larson tells the story of the last Atlantic crossing of the R.M.S. Lusitania, Larson is a fantastic storyteller and I should have known better than to start reading his latest book before bedtime. Two hours later, I was deep into the tale but had to get some shut-eye. Tomorrow's another day....

Larson's "Isaac's Storm" was my first contact with the writer. As always, he takes a defining historic event, this time the devastating 1900 Galveston hurricane, and takes it down to sea level, seeing the cataclysm through the eyes of local meteorologist Isaac Cline.

Wasn't that a mighty storm
Wasn't that a mighty storm in the mornin'
Wasn't that a mighty storm
It blew all the people away.

Larson has a novelist's eye for detail and characterization. We all want to hear other people's stories. When we tell stories, we always tell it from a person's P.O.V. What did you do in the way, daddy? How did you two meet? Who are you named after?

How did you get to the U.S., Grandpa?

My maternal grandfather, Martin Hett, waited in Liverpool for the Lusitania to dock on May 7, 1915. Martin,. 14, held a steerage ticket for New York. One way. For the past two years, Martin had worked in the coal mines of northern England. In 1912, he left the poverty of County Roscommon in Ireland to make his own way in the world. His ultimate destination was the United States, home to an older brother and sister who earlier had fled Ireland.

Martin was not a gregarious Irishman. Gruff and hard-working, he didn't spend a lot of time telling tales. His Lusitania tale was a short one. He waited for the Lusitania to arrive in Liverpool. Pieces of it arrived, the flotsam and jetsam left after a German U-boat attack. He rescheduled his ticket for the next ship to New York. The Germans sunk that one, too. The third time was a charm.

That's it. No florid touches. No grandiose descriptions. He made it to New York and then to Chicago, where his brother got him a job working downtown's elevated trains.

As a trained reporter and researcher, I could easily trace Martin's story. And I will, one of these days. It's a fine story as is. It's as good as my paternal grandfather's story about General Pershing riding his Iowa National Guard cavalry mount during a break in the action during World War I. It's as good as my maternal grandmother's claim to have served as the first postmistress of a PO in small-town Ohio. It stacks up against my Maryland-raised paternal grandmother's claim that her mother's family was kin to Robert E. Lee of the Virginia Lees. All of these claims can be tested. That's what the Internet is for. DNA tests, too.

I'm also a fiction writer. I make stuff up. Sometimes I begin with the kernel of a story. Sometimes it's a situation or a snippet of conversation. It might be an old memory. It might be someone else's memory. I am blessed and/or cursed with wonderful recall. Thing is, when I tell a story at a family gathering, other family members remember the same situation differently. Memory plays tricks on us. Writers need fact checks if they are writing non-fiction. If writing fiction, we still need to make sure that we have the names and dates right. The Lusitania was sunk on such a day and such a time. As for the reasons why, we still have writers speculating 100 years later. And why is that? The sinking of the Lusitania is one of the reasons given for the U.S. entry into the European war two years later.

The more history I read, the less I understand. I love the stories, as does Larson. One incident leads to another. The Lusitania, the fastest ship in the Cunard Line inventory, the greyhound of the Atlantic, races toward Liverpool. Unterseeboot-20 awaits. The German submarine is captained by Walther Schweiger, his surname the same as my wife's maiden name. "No relation," she says. "How do you know?" I reply. She shrugs. Her German relatives were simple farm folk who immigrated to the U.S. before World War I. Capt. Schweiger was a well-to-do city boy from Berlin, "No relation," she said.

My grandfather must have been wrapping up his job in the mines, ready to head to America. At 14, a veteran coal miner. Imagine that. What were you doing at 14? At 14, I graduated from Catholic grade school which, in those days, was eighth grade. My only job up to that point was paperboy. I had never seen the inside or the outside of a coal mine.

Martin Hett had already left his home country of Ireland. He now was leaving his adopted country to travel to America. His adopted country was at war, as he would discover dramatically in Liverpool. That was 100 years ago next month.

Larson illustrates his tale of the Lusitania with portraits of the ship's captain and crew, and a variety if passengers. He imagines life in a crowded and dangerous submarine. He doesn't mention my grandfather awaiting the big ship to dock and take on new passengers. That's up to me, of course.

It's all in the story.

My future as a Wyoming dandelion wrangler

The last Saturday in April. Windows thrown open. Breeze riffling curtains.

I hear a lawnmower.

This is transition season between the sounds of snowblowers and those of lawnmowers. There's no clear-cut demarcation line in Wyoming. On April 17, the snowblowers were out, shooting a foot of heavy wet snow into The Big Sky. On April 25, it's lawnmower time, at least for one neighbor. I took a gander at my backyard and it could use a trim. It's unruly. Nice crop of dandelions add a yellow splash to the yard. The common dandelion, taraxacum officinale. As is true with most owners of lawns, I shout out, "Death to all dandelions."

Foolish homo sapiens. Dandelions preceded us and will no doubt outlive us. While clever humans have one way to propagate, dandelions have many. On the About Home web site, writer David Beaulieu opens his article on "how to control dandelions" with this caveat:

What makes dandelion removal from lawns so difficult? Well, dandelions enjoy the best of both worlds. Above-ground, their seeds ride the wind currents, poised to drop into the slightest opening in your lawn to propagate the species. Meanwhile, below-ground, they strike down a taproot up to 10 inches long. Pulling the taproot as a means of removal is problematic. Thick but brittle, the taproot easily fractures -- and any fraction of the taproot that remains in the ground will regenerate.

Before you get out the weed killer, you might want to contemplate some of the culinary and medicinal benefits of dandelions. From Wikipedia:

Dandelions are harvested from the wild or grown on a small scale as a leaf vegetable. The leaves (called dandelion greens) can be eaten cooked or raw. They are probably closest in character to mustard greens. Usually the young leaves and unopened buds are eaten raw in salads, while older leaves are cooked. The leaves are high in vitamin A, vitamin C and iron, carrying more iron and calcium than spinach. 

Dandelion flowers can be used to make dandelion wine, for which there are many recipes. Most of these are more accurately described as "dandelion-flavored wine," as some other sort of fermented juice or extract serves as the main ingredient. It has also been used in a saison ale called Pissenlit (the French word for dandelion, literally meaning "wet the bed") made by Brasserie Fantôme in Belgium. Dandelion and burdock is a soft drink that has long been popular in the United Kingdom. 

In Poland, dandelion flowers are used to make a honey substitute syrup with added lemon (so-called May-honey). This "honey" is believed to have a medicinal value, in particular against liver problems. Ground roasted dandelion root can be used as a non-caffeinated coffee substitute. 

Historically, dandelion was prized for a variety of medicinal properties, and it contains a wide number of pharmacologically active compounds. Dandelion is used as a herbal remedy in Europe, North America and China. "Empiric traditional application in humans of dandelion, in particular to treat digestive disorders, is supported by pharmacological investigations. It has been used in herbal medicine to treat infections, bile and liver problems, and as a diuretic. Dandelion root is a registered drug in Canada, sold principally as a diuretic. Dandelion is used in herbal medicine as a mild laxative, for increasing appetite, and for improving digestion. 

The milky latex has been used as a mosquito repellent and as a folk remedy to treat warts. A recent experiment shows that đandelion leaf extract can reduce the spread of tumor cells. Although these researches are still on beginning stages, but many scientists believe that it can be used as an effective treatment in many types of cancer. With very low or even no toxicity at all, taraxacum can be used as a drink like tea on a daily basis. 

Contrast this with the many uses of the ornamental lawn. This is my own list, compiled with the assistance of a growler of home-brewed Pissenlit:

1. Pretty to look at it.
2. Playing field for softball, croquet, volleyball, etc.
3. Good place to lie down on a summer day and stare up at the clouds.
4. Cool grass feels good between the toes.
5. Bathroom for dog.

The most dangerous trait of dandelions may be the fights they cause with neighbors. If I decide to do nothing about my crop of taraxacum officinale, you may view this as a threat to your bluegrass lawn. You would be correct, of course, and you might ask your neighbor: "What are you doing with a bluegrass lawn in the middle of the high desert of Wyoming?"

But you, of course, also have one of these lawns. I've been tempted to kill off my lawn since I inherited it when I bought my house in 2005. But if you kill off a lawn, what do you replace it with? Xeriscaping? Rock gardens? Pavement? Weeds? Vast vegetable gardens? Overflow parking lot for Cheyenne Frontier Days?

Current trends favor veggie or rock gardens over lawns. Entire urban neighborhoods from Boston to L.A. have been converted to tomatoes and cucumbers. In Denver, where I once protected my garden from invading slugs with a minefield of Miller Lite, front yards have been given over to berry thickets and twisted clumps of zucchini plants. My old Platt Park neighbors have opened farm-to-table stands on their front porches. Chickens lay eggs in the garage and Bessie the cow yields gallons of raw milk which is shipped to Wyoming along with fresh buds of Boulder's Best. All that's needed is a couple dozen cookies. Homemade, of course.

Dandelion cookies anyone?

Reflections on a new knee

Funny how surgery can throw you for a loop.

Fifteen days ago, I had a knee replaced. Pulled the 1950 chassis into the OR, went to sleep and woke up with a new part. The old knee saw me through 64 years. Not bad for original equipment. I could say that they don't make them like that any more, but that's not true. Blood and bone and sinew continues to be manufactured into humans on a daily basis. Thanks to modern medicine, the old, worn-out stuff can be replaced. Knees, shoulders, hips, heart valves -- all available for the asking and the affording.

I took the long route to replacement. Despite daily pain, I had the left knee scoped the same weekend Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans. I watched round-the-clock hurricane coverage almost guilt-free. The weather was glorious in Wyoming and I would have felt awful staying inside to immerse myself in tragedy. But I had an excuse. For the next decade, I relied on exercise and Alleve and occasional steroid injections. Finally I got the word from my orthopedic doc. I had four options. I could do nothing, always a popular option for us procrastinators. I could rely on the calming ministrations of Alleve. More injections. Finally, surgery.

This is elective surgery but should not be undertaken lightly, especially if you're a heart patient, as I am. Dr. Shannon sent me to my cardiologist and my family doctor. After a battery of tests, including a stress test that wasn't too stressful, they cleared me for surgery. Meanwhile, I wrecked my car. There was no replacing parts in my Ford Fusion. Totalled. Not something you want to hear about your favorite car or favorite human. So, I got a total car replacement.

Until Jan. 2, 2013, I had been a stranger to hospitals. I was ten years old the last time I was a hospital patient. I was 62 when dragged to the ER with a heart attack. A five-decade hiatus -- not bad. My heart attack and subsequent surgeries made me comfortable with hospitals. I almost look forward to visiting them now.

Almost.

Knee replacement surgery takes less than an hour. The surgeon applies a tourniquet so staunch the blood flow. The experts work fast. Soon I'm in the recovery room wondering what the heck happened. I'm hooked up to oxygen and IV. My left leg was being flexed by a CPM. Must move that new knee -- no rest for the stunned.

So here I am -- 15 days out. The pain is lessening. Dr. Shannon's assistant removed the 32 staples that sealed the incision on April 8. Doctor's orders say I must keep moving and keep recuperating.

OK, doc.

"I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night..."

The first time I heard Joe Hill's name was during the 1970 "Woodstock" movie. Joan Baez, at night, fog swirling around, singing about this man who I'd never heard of.

I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night,
Alive as you and me.
Says I "But Joe, you're ten years dead"
"I never died" said he,
"I never died" said he. 

"The Copper Bosses killed you Joe,
"They shot you Joe" says I. "
Takes more than guns to kill a man"
Says Joe "I didn't die."
Says Joe "I didn't die" 

Who is Joe Hill? Who are the Copper Bosses?

As a 20-year-old, I had to look them up. No Internet in 1970. Throughout my K-12 education, nobody ever mentioned Joe Hill, not even in Colorado, Utah's neighbor. The library was my only choice. Books! Joe Hill was a union organizer. Copper bosses? Fat cats who crushed the union members. In Joe Hill's case, he was executed by a Utah firing squad. 

Nobody celebrates the Copper Bosses, although they undoubtedly have some buildings named after them. Nobody knows the names of the men on the firing squad.

But we do remember Joe Hill, thanks to songwriters and singers and union activists. Joan Baez. Pete Seeger. Woody Guthrie. The Weavers. Utah Phillips. The Wobblies. 

The 100th anniversary of Joe Hill's murder will be marked this summer at the Joe Hill centennial celebration in Salt Lake City. Joe might not have envisioned this, but the event is being promoted and funded through a Kickstarter project. 

Take a look at the Kickstarter video. It includes singer-songwriter Kate McLeod from Utah. I had the pleasure of meeting Kate in at arts events in Jackson Hole a few years ago. She is amazing. The whole event is amazing. Crowd-fund it and attend it on Sept. 5. 

Loveland getting national attention for its creative placemaking projects

Chris poses with my new car as train rumbles by the Loveland Feed & Grain Building, which is being transformed into the Art @ The Feed and Grain facility. You can't see it in this pic but the new ArtsSpace live/work spaces for artists are being built on the other side of the Feed and Grain.  

SF Gate in San Francisco carried a neat article Saturday about the ArtSpace project in Loveland, located an hour south of Cheyenne on I-25. Loveland is a one-time farming community and jumping-off point to Estes Park and Rocky Mountain National Park. The city is known for two things: it amazing array of outdoor sculpture and its dueling summer sculpture shows; Valentine's Day postal cancellations (LOVE-land -- get it?). Loveland once was home to my aunt and grandfather. Back in the eighties, my grandfather used to grabbed his cane and tottered over to the old downtown coffee shop where he used to entertain the waitresses with old war stories. My aunt was a bit concerned that Grandpa would get run over on his morning walks. But Loveland was pretty sleepy back then. As long as he didn't wander over to Eisenhower Blvd./U.S. Hwy. 34, where a steady stream of behemoth motor homes made a beeline for the national park. Grandpa lived to a ripe old age, still spinning his tales to anyone who would listen at the Denver V.A. Hospital.

Thirty years later, Loveland is a different place. The old feed and grain building along the railroad tracks is being renovated into an arts center. Next door, live-work spaces for 30 artists are under construction. The projects are being sponsored by ArtSpace of Minneapolis, the country's lone non-profit property developer. Read more about it here and here. Cheyenne is also trying to get an ArtSpace project off the ground. Read about it here -- and, if you live within 50 miles of Cheyenne, take the survey.

Chris and I visited downtown Loveland two Saturdays ago. We were on our way back from a car-buying trip to Denver. Viewed the nifty ArtSpace project on the edge of a revitalizing downtown. We dropped in on the Loveland Creatorspace on the other side of the tracks from the feed and grain. Place was humming with young people working Cad-Cam computers and 3-D printers. A machinist was making parts for some gizmo. A guy my age tutored students. Such a neat place. Creativity comes in so many forms.

Laramie County Democrats Grassroots Coalition holds elections March 30

This invitation comes from the Laramie County Democrats Grassroots Coalition:

Greetings fellow Democrats. 

If you were unhappy with the 63rd Legislature and what they did or didn't do, let's start our call to action now by attending the next LCDGC meeting on Monday, March 30, 6-8:30 p.m., in the Laramie County Public Library Rainbow Room.

Sign up or renew membership. We'll have some hors d' oeuvres and refreshments. The proposed slate of officers is as follows: Kathleen Petersen, President; Ken Trowbridge, Vice-president; Cherry Kildow, Secretary and Joe Corrigan, Treasurer. These are the suggested names, but we will be calling for nominations from the floor also. 

You must be a member of the Laramie County Democratic Grassroots Coalition to vote, so you can fill out a membership form on Monday night.

Get more info here. 

See you there. 

Spring 2015 is deceptively pleasant

Ah, spring.

In Wyoming, that usually means snow and wind and cold. March and April are our snowiest months. Usually.

This year, the snow spigot shut off early. Not sure if this is an El Nino or La Nina year, but whatever it is, the storms went to the south and then moved on to hammer Boston and points east.

Today is Saturday, March 28. First day of spring break for local school kids. Trips to ski areas, or those that are still operating. Jaunts to see grandma in Sun City. College kids head to the beaches. Those that stick around, will get sunny skies and 70-degree temps, at least they will today. My neighbor is hammering on something. I can hear it because my windows are wide open. Harleys rumble in the distance. But I've been seeing the local bikers on the roads since January. Their bikes didn't get much of a winter break this year.

This balmy weather has a dark side. If it's dry now, it will be really dry come July. That means wildland fires. A huge grass fire scorched property around Chugwater earlier in the week. Cheyenne experience a grassland fire a month ago that crept to within sparking distance of our newest high school.

Wyoming had a similar dry spring three years ago. The summer of 2012 saw a whopper of a fire west of Fort Collins that carried smoke and ash north to Cheyenne with a south wind. Mix together the smoke with a very hot summer and you get a lot of unpleasantness.

But today, well, I plan on spending time outside. There are gardens to prepare. Leaves to rake. Weeds to ignore. The Home and Garden Show is going on this weekend. My old writing pal, Joanne Kennedy, is staging a book signing at the local animal shelter -- a benefit. I have a new used car to wash. I totalled my old used car a month ago and, no, I didn't skid on icy streets and slam into a telephone pole. The weather was much like it is today. A young woman in an SUV rolled right through a stop sign and I slammed into her. I was OK but not the car.

Plenty to be thankful about on this gorgeous spring day.

"Depression is a beast that no one should have to face alone"

I've written about my own depression on these pages. I've written about my daughter's struggle with depression and borderline personality disorder. I've written about the suicides of veterans and family friends. I've discussed Wyoming's alarming teen suicide rate and the predilection of boys and men in The Cowboy State to turn a weapon on themselves when things go bad.

Philanthropist and arts patron Mick McMurry of Casper committed suicide this week. He was 69, five years older than me. I saw him most recently at the Governor's Arts Awards Gala in Cheyenne two weeks ago. We knew each other from afar, as people who saw each other occasionally at arts events and other gatherings. In Wyoming (pop. 580,000), many of us are acquainted. It is sad when one of those acquaintances is suffering and we don't know about it and can't do a thing about it.

This story by Tom Morton appeared Friday on the K2 Radio web site with the headline: ‘Depression Is A Beast’: McMurry Family Vows Greater Mental Health Awareness After Mick’s Death:

Mick McMurry’s mental health rapidly declined after back surgery in February, which led to his suicide earlier this week, his daughter and a family spokesman said Friday.  

“This is somebody who’d never been sick and never had taken much medicine, and it had an after-effect of some depression,” George Bryce said at a news conference at the home of Susie and Mick McMurry.  

“Depression manifests itself in many different ways, and can sneak up on you,” Bryce said. “Some people that suffer from depression have a way of hiding it. And we knew that something wasn’t quite right, and we were kind of saying, ‘is that really Mick?,’ and then the next day it was really Mick,” he said.

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“Depression is a beast that no one should have to face alone,” Trudi McMurry Holthouse said. 

Holthouse said her father’s decline was quick after the surgery. Her father would refer to a gathering “black cloud,” yet he hid the symptoms well, she said. 

“He’s so poised about himself and handling people,” Holthouse said. “The way I looked at it was just a change of heart like an enlightening was happening and he was coming to us with deep sorrow and grief,” Holthouse said. 

The family supported him, but that apparently wasn’t enough, she said. 

“It just got to be such a burden, he couldn’t bear it anymore, Holthouse said. “His body had never failed him like this before. He had never not had a clarity of mind, and his heart was just so heavy, but you know, we didn’t know, we didn’t know how heavy it was.” 

Bryce, a trustee with the the McMurry Foundation, said mental health long has been the step-child of the overall health care system and people need to be more aware and aware of what’s happening in others’ lives. 

The McMurry Foundation has supported mental health and depression awareness, but her father’s death will sharply change that because she wouldn’t wish that on anyone, Holthouse said. 

“You can bet there will be some things that we will now be more focused on and take note to help more people. You just never know when someone is as desperate and destitute as that,” she said. “It will be a priority.”

Read more here: Family: Post-Surgery Depression Lead to McMurry's Suicide

Let's all make a vow to improve mental health care in Wyoming. As I write this, my daughter is a patient at Wyoming Behavioral Institute (WBI) in Mick McMurry's home town of Casper. She is at WBI after spending four months at the Wyoming State Hospital and then a week at a group home in Douglas. She's been in and out of treatment centers since she was 14. She's made several suicide attempts. We want to keep her safe. We want her to get the correct treatment for her smorgasbord of mental health impairments. Not too much to ask, right?

In Wyoming, it may be.

Cheyenne Artspace wants you to take its Artist Market Survey

I've always been pleased when people who live in the far-flung regions on Wyoming refer to Cheyenne as North Denver. They mean it as a slam. I take it as a compliment.

I'm a Denver native. My parents were Denver natives. My son was born in Denver. Both sets of grandparents met, fell in love, got married, and had kids in Denver. They were from elsewhere but found themselves in the Mile High City 100-some years ago and did what humans have been doing for centuries -- they got busy being human.

But this isn't about Denver. It's about NoCoSoWy or, if you prefer, SoWyNoCo. It's about Cheyenne, Laramie, Fort Collins and Greeley. It's about the counties of Laramie, Albany, Larimer and Weld. More than 720,000 souls live in this region, far less than the millions who inhabit Colorado but more than the 580,000 or so who inhabit the Great State of Wyoming.

Some 350,000 people live within a 50-mile radius of Cheyenne. There should be 600 people in there who are interested in taking the Cheyenne Artspace Artist Market Survey that was launched on Thursday. That's the number that Arts Cheyenne and Cheyenne DDA/Main Street hope to reach in the next eight weeks. I think they can do it. I attended the survey launch party Feb. 26 at Asher-Wyoming Arts Center across from the Cheyenne railyards. A pair of engines pulled a line of graffitied railcars toward San Francisco. A teamster was wrangling a loaded semi in the parking lot. Lace-like snowflakes danced on my windshield.

Attendance was pretty good for a cold, snowy Thursday. We hung out at tables arrayed around the bare-brick second floor center. Sixty of us ate, chatted and listened to music by Todd Dereemer and his band. The stage was designed as a multi-media stage/altar for the Vineyard Church. The church moved out and the arts center moved in.

Here's how's Arts Cheyenne described this initiative:

Artspace is a non-profit consultancy and property development organization specializing in affordable housing and work space for artists and arts organizations. Artspace has developed 37 similar projects in 13 states, with a dozen more in development or under construction. A nearby Artspace project in Loveland, Colo. is slated for completion this spring.

Artspace representatives visited Cheyenne last year to tour buildings and make presentations to community leaders and artists. The visit convinced Artspace there was a market for an artist live/work project and in Cheyenne Feasibility Report recommended the survey to help determine project specifics, like space, location, and number of potential users. 

Artspace and Arts Cheyenne will work together to promote the online survey to local artists and arts organizations. A survey report will be compiled and delivered in August 2015. 

At Thursday's gathering, Shannon Joern from Artspace HQ in Minneapolis gave us an overview of the project and provided a rough timeline.

The survey may show a need for the project. It may not. That happened in Casper a few years ago. While a live/work style project wasn't in the cards, Artspace is still working with Casper on a consulting basis. Casper's core business area is booming. The Casper Artists' Guild will move into its renovated downtown warehouse on May 1. A brewpub, gelatto shop and other small businesses will occupy the other half of the warehouse. In some ways, Casper is ahead of Cheyenne when it comes to creative placemaking. If only they could get a new library....

Felicia Harmon of Loveland Artspace noted that the arts survey conducted six years ago in the south end of Colorado's Larimer County helped to "quantify and qualify the arts in our community." Even before construction started on the live/work space, Loveland Aleworks opened a block away because it "wanted to be close to another arts community," Harmon said. Across the railroad tracks from the former feed and grain depot, now the arts center adjacent to the Artspace development, is a group of new studios for mid-career artists and in the works is a new maker space. The Arts Incubator of the Rockies (AIR) has moved into the neighborhood, adding a regional arts component to the local one. AIR was based in Fort Collins but heard the drumbeat of innovation and moved south.  

My advice? If you're interested in the arts and the future of Cheyenne, take the survey. A good investment for 15 minutes. I'll wager that you spend at least 15 minutes a year listening to people say, "There's nothing to do in Cheyenne."

Well?

Clever neighborhood nicknames the key to Cheyenne's cultural renaissance

This is for all of you forward-thinking folks who believe in odd concepts. That downtown Cheyenne can be a vital place. That Cheyenne can one day be an arts mecca or, at least, an arts Vatican. That urban planning is a good thing and not a U.N. plot to destroy our Merican way of life and force us to live in Hobbit homes and ride commie bicycles to work.

Here's news from Arts Cheyenne:

The next phase of the Cheyenne Artspace initiative gets underway this week.

Cheyenne DDA/Main Street, Arts Cheyenne and Artspace will begin an eight-week-long Artist Market Survey process designed to measure interest in an artist live/work environment in the downtown Cheyenne area.

The online survey will be unveiled at a public launch event at the Asher-Wyoming Arts Center, 500 W. 15th St. in downtown Cheyenne. That will be held on Thursday, Feb. 26, 5:30-8 p.m. It includes a presentation by Artspace representatives Shannon Joern and Felicia Harmon, music by the Todd DeReemer Band and refreshments. 

Artspace is a non-profit consultancy and property development organization specializing in affordable housing and work space for artists and arts organizations. Artspace has developed 37 similar projects in 13 states, with a dozen more in development or under construction. A nearby Artspace project in Loveland, Colo., is slated for completion this spring. Artspace representatives visited Cheyenne last year to tour buildings and make presentations to community leaders and artists. The visit convinced Artspace there was a market for an artist live/work project and in its Cheyenne Feasibility Report, recommended the survey to help determine project specifics, like space, location, and number of potential users. Artspace and Arts Cheyenne will work together to promote the online survey to local artists and arts organizations. A survey report will be compiled and delivered in August 2015. 

The Cheyenne Artspace survey will open Thursday, February 26. 

The survey will be sent to artists, arts groups, arts businesses and other interested parties within a 50-mile radius of Cheyenne. That includes Laramie, Fort Collins and Greeley which, with Cheyenne, make up the Quad Cities of NoCo/SoWy. It includes all of Laramie County. If you're interested and don't get a survey, contact Arts Cheyenne. You can also come out to the launch on Thursday evening in the DeNo (Depot North) area of downtown Cheyenne.

One of the most important parts of downtown development is to create short, quirky nicknames for each district. In Denver, you have LoDo (Lower Downtown) and RiNo (River North). NYC has the famous SoHo (South of Houston) and TriBeCa (Triangle Below Canal Street) neighborhoods. I  challenge all of my readers to come up with catchy nicknames for our downtown areas. There are no prizes, but you can entertain people at future DeNo loft parties with stories of how you, almost single-handedly, brought the cultural renaissance to Chey-town back in the early part of the 21st century.

Furnace Repair 101 for English majors

When my 33-year-old furnace coughed, sputtered and died. I called an English major.

Just kidding. Our household already includes one English major -- me. Everything I know about furnaces can be put into this capital O with plenty of room left over for use in one of my short stories.

When faced with the decline and fall of our furnace, I called an expert. The machine expired on a Friday night -- of course -- but Marv's Plumbing and Heating was willing to send a crew out to take a look, with no sky-high weekend charges. The crew inspected the furnace. They pronounced a few possible problems. I stood by, nodding knowingly, icicles hanging from my mustache. They concluded that they didn't know enough about my ancient furnace to diagnose the problem accurately. They said their top-notch HVAC (that's heating, ventilation and air conditioning for you laypeople) expert could come out on Monday and take a look. I said that would be OK.

When they left, I dialed up another heating company. I asked the man on the phone if he fixed old Lennox furnaces. He chuckled and then said it would cost me $120 for him to come out and take a look on a weekend. I thanked him, hung up and waited until Monday. My wife and I huddled around the space heater as prehistoric humans once huddled around the fire. We could have repaired to a motel for the weekend. Alas, I am an English major, salary-wise, and my wife works for a non-profit org, so repairing to a motel until my furnace was repaired was beyond our means. You will notice that I employ the old-fashioned, Middle English use of "repair" (from Anglo-French repairer) to add some language playfulness to the situation. I also can diagram any of the sentences I use in this blog.

I cannot, however, diagram or repair a furnace.

Chris the HVAC guy came over on Monday. I expected a guy my age, a battle-hardened, gray-haired veteran of the furnace wars. What I got was a furnace expert from the Millennial generation. He carried all the right equipment and diagnosed the problem quickly. Along the way, he said he had graduated from a heating and air conditioning school in California. While there, he met a young lass from Cheyenne who spirited him away to Wyoming. They live in an old house with a 60-year-old furnace which he could fix, and did regularly. He said that he would get back to me with an estimate. He did. The cost was astronomical. I called around, got estimates for a new heating unit.

Randy at Mr. B's replaced my furnace a week later. Unseasonably warm weather made life without heat bearable. I came home while Randy worked in the basement. We struck up a conversation. His roots go back to Tennessee, the Civil War and beyond. We swapped family history stories. His grandfather, a B-17 pilot during World War II, was shot down and spent 18 months as a prisoner of war. His grandfather kept a journal on the backs of wrappers of the soup cans that came in Red Cross packages. Those makeshift journals survived the war and were typed up. Randy had a photocopy and gave it to me. I read it. Amazing what people can do under duress.

Also amazing are the stories people tell. You have to listen, though. I advised Randy that there were many inexpensive ways to print his grandfather's journal as a book or booklet. Thanks to technology, the jots and scribbles of our forebears can be put into forms that will last for generations. My sister Eileen is doing that with our grandmother's World War I diaries and my father's World War II letters. I told Randy to get in touch with me and I could give him some publishing guidance. That's one of my specialties at my day job.

Randy provided a tutorial on my new Daikin furnace. He gave me a booklet with instructions and detailed diagrams. The diagrams look the same to me right side up or upside down. Randy knows the meanings of manometer and total external duct static pressure. I am grateful.

My new furnace hums along.

And here I am, writing.

Great line-up of writers and editors for WWInc Conference in Cheyenne

In a Dec. 8 post, I wrote about Colorado poet Aaron Abeyta coming to Cheyenne June 5-7 as the keynoter for the Wyoming Writers, Inc., annual conference.

What I forgot to mention are the other fine writers and editors serving as faculty at the conference. Fiction writer and essayist Laura Pritchett from Fort Collins will be there, as well as Kent Nelson, a great short story writer from Salida, Colo. Editor Patrick Thomas will represent Milkweed Editions, one of Pritchett's publishers ("Hell's Bottom, Colorado") and one of America's great non-profit presses based in Minneapolis/St. Paul. Other editors include Tiffany Schofield from Five Star Publishing and Meghan Saar, senior editor of True West Magazine.

The WWInc conference launches the summer art season in Wyoming. School's out, the flowers are in bloom, and the snow is mostly over. People enjoy the outdoors all day and sip Wyoming-made IPAs on the front porch in the evening. Air Guard C-130s and Blackhawks buzz our house and the neighbor kid pops wheelies on his dirtbike. Al over the state, people dig music festivals, art fairs and brewfests. The mountains, too -- can't forget those.

At the writers' conference, I've agreed to serve as emcee for Friday and Saturday night's open readings. I enjoy the job. Each writer (me included) gets five minutes for their prose or poetry. Some accompany themselves on guitars or kazoos. When the timer sounds at the end of five minutes, the writer has to sit down. The hook comes out if they don't. You don't want to get the hook. It goes on your permanent record.

See you in June in Cheyenne.